Starting From The Beginning
by Brutal But Beautiful
Summary: He died in the battle of Hogwarts, leaving his brother with an empty space… an empty space which, it seemed, only I could fill. (George Weasley short love story.)
1. Chapter 1

He died in the battle of Hogwarts, leaving his brother with an empty space… an empty space which, it seemed, only I could fill.

It's a few months after He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named was defeated when I find myself in Diagon Alley to buy a new wand. I broke mine yesterday when I tripped over Pyrose - my cat. I Haven't been living my own very long but it's proving to be disastrous, most months I can only scrape up enough money to feed Pyrose and myself and pay rent… some months I can barely manage that. I'm sure my parents would help, but my mum left when I was just little and my dad isn't in a much better place than me.

Forking out for a new wand today is going to set me behind, I'll have to work double shifts at the pub to get all my money together. It's nothing that I haven't had to manage before… But I'm delayed before I make it to Ollivander's.

There's a shop that seems to be sagging back, cowering away from the colours of it's surrounding buildings. I remember that this shop used to be even brighter than every shop in the Alley, always crowded with people and bursting with life; I remember the way the gold letters stood out on the red paint, but now a lot of that is scratched away and all I can read of the sign is 'Wea ley's Wiza d Whe zes'. I'm not sure how it happens, but the sign on the door says open and I take it as an invitation. I walk inside.

It's like it's been abandoned, like stepping through a portal to a post-apocalyptic world. There isn't another soul in sight, and I can't hear a thing.

"Hello?" I call, slightly apprehensive. There's no reply.

Slightly louder this time. "Is anyone there?"

I notice there's still tricks and potions and curious little things covering every shelf. It's all covered with a grimy layer of dust.

"Mr Weasley?" I'm definitely shouting this time, and I know if there is anyone here there's no way they haven't heard me.

There's a heavy pattering of footsteps on the stairs.

Then there's a man. His forehead is wrinkled from stress but his cheeks have lines from smiling and the corners of his eyes are creased from the same. He looks happy, but looking a little closer I can see that it's just a glamour. This boy is not happy at all, and more importantly, he's just one Mr Weasley. There should be two.

That's when I remember. _Fred Weasley was killed._

I try muster up a smile, but I'm sure mine isn't very convincing either. I'm not sure what I should say, and I don't even think I can manage a hello.

"Hi!" George Weasley beams. I don't think he remembers me at all - I was in his year at Hogwarts.

Maybe that's why, when I open my mouth, I find that I'm blurting out the truth instead of a web of lies. "Actually, I'm not here to buy anything."

George's face falls. "Oh."

I immediately backtrack. "Oh…Oh no! That isn't what I meant, I was here to buy a new wand, you see… I passed your shop on the way to Ollivanders - It looked so different since last time I was here," I'm trying to talk carefully, trying not to insult him, but I can barely control the words streaming from my mouth. I wish I could slap myself.. "I was just worried." I finish lamely.

"Oh" George says again.

"We used to go to Hogwarts together." I say.

 _That isn't very helpful._ My mind pitches usefully. I tell it to shut up.

"My name is Ayelle Stenson," I try to smile. "We had history of magic together."

Now he grins - he actually grins. "Ayelle! I remember you, you were the shy Ravenclaw one." He claps his hands loudly. "I'm surprised I ever forgot a face like yours."

I giggle, slightly flustered. If I didn't know better I might have mistaken that for flirting, but he's George Weasley and he's just being nice.

Neither of us say anything for a while. I'm not sure if the silence is comfortable or awkward, and then he speaks.

"Do you… uh… I don't suppose you need a job? I mean… someone as smart as you could really help the place."

There's a little sparkle in his eyes and it makes me happy to see it there, much better than the dull glow from before.

"Actually… I sort of do." I admit.

"That's great! You can get us off our feet again, be my new business partner! I bet you have a ton of great ideas… Fred always said…" He stopped talking. "Fred always said you looked fun y'know. He tried to talk to you a few times but you always disappeared before he got there."

The mood has dropped again, I'm not sure what to do. On impulse, I step forward and put my arm around his shoulders and squeeze. Just one arm, the other tense by my side and my face pressed against his shoulder and turned towards his neck.

 _What are you doing!_ my mind screeches.

Then he hugs me back - both arms wrapped very, very tightly around my waist. I want to jump away but something stops me and I stay, hugging George Weasley and listening to his tiny sniffles as he tries to cover them up. I don't know how long the hug lasts but my head is reeling the whole time, and when one of pulls away, I don't know which one, he is smiling and my heart is racing in my chest, I finally start to wonder why I was here in the first place.


	2. Chapter 2

I turn up for work the next day early and decide to head around the back where to the flat is. I was in there yesterday, to sign contracts, it took a detour after a while, when George bought out a few bottles of butterbeer and we recounted all of our Hogwarts adventures.

He answers the door precisely three seconds after I knock with a wide smile and open arms. I think he's expecting me to hug him again, but I pretend I don't notice. It's like he's been waiting for me to knock.

"Sorry I'm early!" I grip the strap of my bag swung across my shoulders and manage a slightly shaky smile.

After what happened yesterday, with that awkward impulse hug, he's been a lot more open. It makes me nervous, but at the same time I want to get closer to him that this. Being nervous around my boss normal, but this is just a boy I went to school with. I spent close to seven years in his company without shaking at the sight of his happy grin, so what's different now?

"It's fine," He says. "Come in."

He stands aside so I can get through the door, but it's a narrow hall and I still find myself closer to him than I find comfortable. I can almost hear him breathing.

"Oh, I can take that!" George says, like he wishes he noticed I was carrying such a heavy bag sooner so he could have been more of a gentleman.

I shake my head no and my hand tenses on the strap. "It's fine," I assure him. "It's just some shopping… it's fine."

He takes it anyway, and he doesn't seem to notice that it's making me uncomfortable and nervous. I wish I could rip my shopping from his hands and sprint from the door. I wish I never walked in yesterday, or at least never accepted a job… But something makes me stay.

"How do you feel about doing a bit of dusting?" George asks as he leads me to what I assume is the kitchen and abandons my bag on the table. "The shops filthy, I mean, dust everywhere. I only noticed when you left." George is saying. "If we want to get this place running like clockwork, like it used to, presentation counts - everything counts! Alright, Ayelle, This is gonna happen! The Weasley's Wizard Wheezes will be booming by the end of the month!"

I smile tensely and hope it doesn't look fake. I hope he's right, but if we want it by the end of the month… it'll take a lot of hard work.

I don't know where George has gone, but I've been tidying at his mercy for three hours. I've found all kinds of wonders hidden amongst the dust. Love potions, spell books, trick wands, all manner of sickly sweets and a wide assortment of strange little tricks that, for the life of me, I can't understand. If we're going back into business everything will need to be restocked.

The building will need a lot of work too - that's George's part of the deal. He doesn't mind climbing onto the roof to fix the leaks of fitting a few, cleaner sheets of glass in the windows. I've promised to re-paint the sign, but I haven't promised it will be any good. He said they hired a painter last time but we don't have the money right now.

"Ayelle!"

It's George, I can hear his voice from the back of the store.

"What is it?" I call back.

"I'm stuck - My hand is. I got my hand stuck."

I sigh and throw my cloth down. "I'm coming, George. Where did you get your hand stuck?"

I emerge into the store room behind the counter where he has some unusual metal contraption clamped around his wrist. In spite of the situation, I laugh. It seems like George is trying to hold his laughter back, but he also looks like he might be in pain. He has that little crease in the corner of his eyes but I can't tell if he's wincing or smiling.

"Snapping Safe," He shrugs. "Me and Fred were trying to perfect them, they're meant to bite anyone who tries to open them if they don't say the password." George's cheeks are flushed like he's embarrassed. "They're a bit sensitive. They bite when you touch them."

"How should I get it off?" I eye the box very cautiously. "If I can't touch it."

He looks just as lost as me, the ghost of a smile dancing over his lips.

"It shouldn't bite again… that's another fault. It only ever bit once."

I nod, seize the box by the mouth and pull it apart. It isn't sharp, but it's strong. It shakes, trying to get a good grip on George again as I force it open and he pulls his hand free.

"Thanks, Ay."

I'm not sure where the nickname came from. No one's ever called me Ay before. He shakes his arm, I guess to loosen it, and sighs as he smiles. "Do you think it's time for lunch?"

"Definitely." I breathe thankfully. I'll be able to escape, eat at a little café or even the ice cream parlour… George has different ideas.

"Great." He beams. "I've got some stuff upstairs, I'll see if I can but some stuff together for you."

My stops, and then starts to beat really, really fast. _Oh no._ Even if dinner with George makes me nervous, I can't say no. He's been alone since Fred has been gone, and he's hoping for a lunch companion. There's no way I can turn him down without having to see him sad again, and now he's happy that would be a terrible idea.

So instead, I grin. "That sounds good." I say. I hope my enthusiasm isn't too weak.

He gets off the floor and dusts his hands on his trousers. "Fantastic. Well, you carry on down here and I'll call you when it's ready. And then he disappears out the door and upstairs.

My heart is still fluttering slightly as I go back to the shop and carry on running my cloth over every surface I find.

 _George Weasley wants to have lunch with me_ I think. Then I smile a little.

It was okay talking to him yesterday, I don't understand why I'm so scared now. Maybe it was the butterbeer.


	3. Chapter 3

The shop is looking better already, it's only been five days since I started working here but we're starting to get draggles of customers every now and then. It might help that school is just about to start, and kids of all ages are bursting in with their younger or older siblings to stock up on jokes and tricks to use on the teachers.

We've restocked everything, Skiving Snackboxes and Pygmy Puffs and all the strange potions and brews Fred and George came up with last year. George is happy again, too, He's smiling every time I see him, I think he's happy that he has a little bit of Fred back. Today I'm upholding my part of the deal and I carry a shimmery can of gold paint outside to re-paint the sign.

I have to set up a step-ladder to be able to reach - I can't use my wand because I never got around to buying another one. It's a little shaky, but I decide it'll have to do and I climb up with my paintbrush in one hand. I'm painting the curve of the _i_ when George emerges from the shop with two cups of tea which he rests on the bottom step of the ladder.

"Going well, I see?" He grins so wide it could light up the whole street.

"Well I'm still not sure why I was stuck with the painting," I sit on the ladder and cradle my tea on one hand, "But sure. The shops looking awesome now."

George chuckles lightly and looks up to my step from where he's sat cross-legged on the cobblestone floor. "You're painting because you have such tiny, delicate hands."

"Oh yes, you'd just bugger it up!" I laugh.

"Probably," He flashes me one of his trademark half smiles and I have to try really hard not to fall off my step.

I hold out my empty cup to George and he takes it, his fingers brush against mine as he does and it's like one of those really cliché moments in muggle movies where their hands meet in the popcorn - in spite of myself my heart practically skips a beat.

George doesn't seem as phased as he smiles at me and walks back into the shop. "Lots more work to do." He shrugs, and then he's gone.

I finish working at about 6:00 that evening and head to the upstairs apartment where I left my coat and bag. I'm planning to buy my new wand tonight (hoping I didn't finish too late) because I'm really getting behind on my spell work. My plans seem to be ruined when I open the kitchen door and find George pouring out two glasses of Firewhisky.

"I was about to come find you!" He proclaims brightly.

"Oh!" I drop my coat back onto the chair I just grabbed it from. "Oh. Okay."

I'm not entirely sure what to say - is this a friend thing? Do most colleagues drink together? _of course they do, idiot._ My head shouts. But does _George_ drink with his colleagues? Even if he does, what if he likes me and think I only think of him as a _shut up!_

"I bought some Firewhisky when I went to Hogsmeade earlier, or I have butterbeer if you'd prefer. Oh - I almost forgot!"

He dashes across the small room and opens a cupboard, pulling out a glass bottle of something red.

"Rosmerta told me about this new drink they're serving, I thought of you straight away. Oh, it's cherry tea by the way." He pours the red drink into a glass, adds some of the firewhisky and thrusts it into my hands.

"Thanks." I say.

He smiles encouragingly and, stupidly, I drink the cherry tea.

I guess it's needless to say that I don't buy my wand that evening, at 9:47 we're still in the kitchen, we've moved onto muggle coffee now and both our cups are still half full. Outside, it's almost pitch black but the moon is hanging low under a layer of whispy, patched clouds and from the window you can see the outline of the other buildings in the Alley. In the shop across the road the lights are still on and the window displays are emptied of the pies, pasties and cakes that filled them this morning.

My eyes move over to George where he's slumped back in his chair, stray strands of red hair brush against his forehead, about the same height as his eyebrows, and his cheeks are glowing red, maybe from the col outside or maybe from the whisky. In my half drunk state it seems like I just can't look away from him, I'm still taking in his melted chocolate brown eyes and the way his cheek curves into his jaw. He takes another long gulp of coffee and now I'm focused on the way his neck moves. _This is crazy, Ayelle_ I think. _Stop it._

I put my coffee on the table and yawn, sliding back a little in my seat.

"Tired?" George asks, and I nod.

It's like he only just noticed what time it is when he jumps out of his seat with a few drops of coffee splattered on his corduroy jeans. "You can't walk home now!" He exclaims suddenly. "it's dark!"

"Yes, it is. But I've done it before - Really, it's okay, George." I assure him.

"Nonsense," He says theatrically. "I'll walk you."

"George! It's almost ten you won't be home until midnight."

"Better than you not being home at all."

I roll my eyes. "George…"

"Come on." He says. He's pulling on a black coat laden with holes and loose thread.

I sigh, too drunk and tired to argue, and stand up.

"It'd be so irresponsible of me to leave drunk girl alone in the city." George says softly. "Let's get you home."

We walk through Diagon Alley and half of London with George's arm around my waist. I'm not sure if he does it because I'm drunk, or cold, or for another reason entirely, but it's nice. I don't tell him that we could catch the bus in 15 minutes, partly because I don't know how he'll cope with it but mostly because walking next to George Weasley I one of the best feelings in the world - and when we get to my apartment it's already half past eleven, so I invite him inside.

That night George sleeps on my sofa with my cat Pyrose asleep on his chest.


	4. Chapter 4

After a few weeks the sky changes from blue to grey, the roofs of every shop are powdered with snow and windows are glazed with frost. Snowflake patterns appear on the bakery pies and its dark every morning and evening when I walk across the London streets. As I walk today, I leave little heeled footprints on the snow coated pathways, looking at all the dull stars spotted over the sky and the warm yellow lights glaring from every apartment window. Cars that zoom past splash me with slush from the wet roads, my cheeks are rosy and rugged with the cold and the tip of my nose is ruby red.

Diagon Alley is packed with plump witches carrying baskets of cranberry sauce, fat turkeys, pork slices… packed with unimaginable amounts of food - made easier with the expansion charm. The bakery across from our joke shop smells heavenly of sweet, baked apples and cinnamon and though I long to stop I'm already late. I sweep into the shop with a drift of snow and cold wind to see George putting up a Christmas tree.

"Morning," I greet, wrapping my scarf on the coat rack behind the downstairs desk.

"Good morning."

"It's cold today." I stuff my mittens into my bag and unlock the register.

He chuckles, finally getting the huge tree upright and brushing his hands on his trousers. "I haven't been out yet, but I've got a few pine needle wounds from my battle with the tree."

I laugh, unsure of what to say.

We dig out the stepladder and a dusty box of tinsel and baubles and I get to work while George serves the customers.

One lady who comes into the shop with her grandson strikes up a conversation with George as she steers the little boy away from the Skiving Snackboxes.

"You've got yourself a keeper there." She tells him as she nods in my direction, where I'm balancing a ballerina and one of the high branches.

"Oh," I say, a little flustered. "oh no, we're not…"

"We just work together." George smiles and I nod in agreement.

The lady smiles like she knows something we don't and takes the child's hand to lead him out of the store.

George is walking back to the register as the bell tingles behind her, a wave of cold wind wafting through the last gap. I watch George out of the corner of my eye and think about what it might be like to date him - maybe it would consist of lots of nights like last week… or something more romantic and adventurous? When I snap out of my daydream I realise I'm smiling and shake my head gently, telling myself to stop being so silly. Plenty of girls in the shop flirt with him, most of them come specifically for that reason, George could have anyone he wanted and he certainly wouldn't choose me. None the less, I find that my mind starts to wonder.

"George?"

"What's up?"

I pause for a moment, then hold out the empty box. "Any more tinsel? I haven't even made it halfway."

He grins back up at me with that cocksure smile, "I'll have a look."

"You're a star!" I call jokily as he disappears into the back room.

"Anything for you, Ayelle." He calls back.

Of course I know he's just messing around, but I lose my breath for a moment and find my cheeks flushing crimson. What if I wasn't wrong after all?

I'm in the flat making two fresh cups of hot tea when George shouts from downstairs. "All closed up!"

I don't say anything and soon enough I hear his feet on the stairs, fast and heavy footed as always. His head peeks round the door and his mouth broadens into a smile before the rest of him appears.

"Tea! Of course!" He laughs. "What kind is it today?"

"Honey and lemon."

He laughs again and I choose to ignore him.

"Today was a good day, right? I think we're starting to get back on our feet now!" I chirp, draining the teabags and dumping them in a mug on the side.

When I turn back to George he's gazing at me with a mesmerized sort of smile, I blush deeply.

"What?" I ask, cheeks still pink.

"The way you say it's our shop,"

I blush again.

"It's cute." He says.

"I think this calls for celebration." I grin, unearthing two glass bottles from my shopping bag.

"On no, we celebrated last…"

I grin as he trails off, taking a better look at the bottles. "Ay is that tea? You've gotta be kidding me! You celebrate with tea?"

"After what happened last week, I celebrate with tea." I correct him with a coy smile. "Anyway, it isn't just any tea - it's the finest in the whole of the wizarding world! Infact, I made it myself."

He looks a little apprehensive. "What exactly is it, Ay?"

I hold the bottle by it's glass neck and read the handwritten label. "Weasley and Stenson's Terrific Tempting Tea, only for use on enemies of the worst nature, irresistible taste with a promise of revenge on your worst foe." I read proudly.

George looks impressed. "You made trick tea?"

I nod.

"What does it do?"

"That's the best part," I smirk. "The 'revenge' is different for everyone, it depends what the person has done to you - say they switched the salt and sugar, everything they ate that day (or maybe a couple) would taste like salt."

George nods approvingly. "I think we need more."

I laugh, and I guess I'm happy to have developed an idea which could help George with his business again as he smiles and starts thinking up new ideas. "We could go broader - what about alcohol, for more sophisticated pranksters, and milk for little kids and pies for people who don't drink much and cakes for people who don't eat pie and -"

He cuts of abruptly and turns to look at me.

"Ayelle!" He exclaims and flings his arms out towards me in a cheesy, goofy way. "you must be sent by Merlin," he laughs and hugs me, then I'm in the air and he's spinning me around and - suddenly, he lets me down, he's holding my face gently and… we kiss. And it's the sweetest, happiest kiss that I could have ever imagined with George Weasley.

"You're the reason this business is working again." He says, letting go of my face.

I shake my head, my cheeks flushed with pure joy and embarrassment, and watch as George pics up a cup of tea that's left on the table.

"Um… George?" I appeal, but he doesn't listen.

"Wow, Ay! This is really good."

I snigger, watching him down the rest of the bottle. "George…"

"I thought you said it was honey and lemon?"

"George that wasn't the…"

"Wait is that the-"

"George…"

He reads the label on the bottle, then bursts out in peals of laughter. "Well! At least we can test it! Um… Ay, is there an antidote?"

I'm the next to start laughing, and neither of us stop until, somehow, I grab him by the waist and we're kissing again.

"There's no antidote…" I say, breathlessly, when we stop. I'm not quite an experienced kisser, I haven't done it enough to know how to breathe yet.

George just laughs, and laughs, until he can't stop. I thought at first it was me who made him laugh, before I realise it was the tea.

"You're a caution, Ayelle." He says through chuckles.

I just smile.

* * *

 ** _A/N_**

 ** _Hey everyone, sorry I haven't updated this in... forever. Thank you to everybody who left wonderful reviews (I love reading your comments. I smile uncontrollably) and criticism to help me improve my writing, I've made a mental note and I'll fix it up soon. I'm hoping you'll all like this chapter - George finally shows his feeling towards Ayelle (yay), I'm hoping that's what you've all been waiting for._**

 ** _Thanks for reading :)_**

 ** _~Brutal But Beautiful_**


	5. Chapter 5

It's getting closer and closer to my last day at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and every day seems to be getting shorter and shorter. I'm not excited for it to be over, the way I usually anticipate the end of my jobs, but I'm dreading it. I know that, after I leave, most of my time will be spent fawning over George Weasley and working up the courage to talk to him again, without much of a reason, which I'll never be able to do. Plus, I'm worrying about the kiss that happened a few days ago - did it mean anything to him, like it did to me? Or was it just a butter-beer influenced mistake that will end in an awkward work environment, and me and George never talking again.

I've been trying to plan something for us to do before the end of my time at the shop, but I keep coming up blank. The best I've got so far is an evening at my place in London, or the park that I know nearby where all the muggles camp at this time of year. But my train of thought is cut short as I arrive at the door to George's apartment, which is already propped open. He spots me from the kitchen island where he's leaning against the wood and watching a pancake fry in the pan.

"Hey! Ayelle." He grins, a little lopsided, a little awkward. "Good to see you again.' At least that seemed sincere.

"Hi George." I greet him, dropping my bag in the broken chair by the door that he hasn't fixed yet.

"I've been thinking-"

"Me too," I cut in as I hop onto the counter beside him. "I mean I… well, there's this place next to my flat, there's a big camping thing Thursday night, I was wondering if you might want to - well you don't have to! But if you'd…" I feel a blush and avert my eyes from George's lighthearted smirk. "If you'd go with me?"

"That's a great idea!" He enthuses, stepping forward to flip the pancake then add it to the stack next to the oven. "I've got a great tent, dad got it from someone at work when we went to the Quidditch Cup Finals one year, they got a new one so they never wanted it back."

"That sounds great," I assure him. "You can just meet me at mine, say five?" I grin.

He beams back at me. "Affirmative." And then he winks.

"While we're asking stuff," Now it's him that blushes. "how about we have a little party on your last night?"

"A party!" I hop off the counter, throwing my arms in the air. "I love parties!"

He chuckles. "I know."

"I like that plan, we'll do that."

"I can't wait." He glances at me, adding the last pancake to the stack, and I'm pretty sure he's almost as excited as me.

Two days later, it's already Thursday and only three hours until my date with George; which is quite a terrifying thought now it's so close. I spent most of the day tidying my house, gathering camping equipment and playing with Pyrose - but now I just have three hours left and I feel like there's so much left to do.

2:00

I put the detergent back under the sink with the scouring brush and cloth, already dreading the next time I'll have to clean again. Then I remember that I used the mince to make bolognaise yesterday which means I don't have enough for a lasagne today, so I grab my shoes to run to the store. So three flights of stairs, a long downhill walk, £5, a long walk uphill and 3 flights of stairs later it's 2:23 and I start making the cheese sauce.

3:00

I've cleaned and the cheese sauce is finished and in a Tupperware in the fridge, now I just have to shower, cook, get dressed and plump the cushions. First, I choose to shower. I spend half an hour under the warm water, letting it soak into my skin and ease the tension a little. I wash my hair and scrub with my favourite 'English Rose' soap until the room is smoky and the mirrors are fogged. When I leave the bathroom, it's 3:36 and probably time to find something to wear. Honestly, it's a lot harder than I expected to find clothes suitable for dating and camping. I end up with dark cream cotton shorts and a plain blue shirt with a peter pan collar - I doubt I'll get _that_ dirty, and it looks perfectly date worthy. I layer mince, pasta sheets and cheese sauce into a pyrex oven dish and put it in the oven to cook.

4:00

It turns out there wasn't that much left to do. I sit on the sofa and turn the TV onto my favourite channel which is playing my least favourite drama. I turn it off and fidget restlessly in my seat. I cross my legs. I uncross them. I pick up a book and read a page - but I can't focus and I put it down. I pick up my phone and scroll through my messages, but there's nothing new and I lock it again. I sigh and flop against the back of the sofa - it must have been at least half an hour… I look at the clock.

 _4:06_

I groan. How am I going to pass fifty four minutes when I'm so impatient?

5:00

I took out the lasagne ten minutes ago and it's cooling on the window sill while I wait for George to arrive - which is about two minutes later. The doorbell chimes and I race down the sparsely decorated hallway, sliding to a halt before the door to smooth down my hair, pull up my shorts and tug on the hem of my shirt.

"Hi!" I beam as I fling the door open… perhaps a little too eagerly, I think, as it bangs against the stopper on the wall.

"Hey," George's lopsided smirk already has my heart racing.

 _All those romance books I read as a teenager weren't lying_ I think to myself, feeling my cheeks heat up with colour.

I let him in and shut the door behind him.

 _Merlin,_ it's weird now he's in my house. All this was fine back in his territory… but know I'm the host? It feels so _intense._

"So when does this thing start?" He shuffles his foot nervously, but his ability to brighten up any situation immediately lifts the pressure I'm feeling.

"Well - not until six. I made us some dinner… oh! Unless you've already eaten…!"

He smiles gratefully and chuckles. "Dinner sounds great"

About half an hour later we've finished and we're loading ourselves up with camping gear ready for the event. George brought the tent, as promised, and I've got everything else we need. George carries most of it himself, as he insists it's 'chivalrous' and I carry a bag of blankets as I lock up the house.

It's about a ten minute walk to the field which we manage to fill with conversations.

"This tent actually belonged to someone my dad worked with," George informs me as I hurry to keep up with him.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Uh huh, he never asked for it back - I think he must have forgotten, after everything that happened at the World Cup Finals, or maybe he thought it would be rude after what went down."

"You were at the world cup finals?" I ask in shock, he nods solemnly.

"Yeah, I don't like to think about it though."

"Of course not! So, do you have any happy camping stories?"

"When I was little, Fred, Ron, Bill, Percy and I used to camp in the back garden in the summer. Mum would make us little picnics and dad let us use the camping stove sometimes, but Fred and I were never allowed to touch it because we were too clumsy." He grins.

"Oh, that sounds like you, well, we're here anyway."

There are about fifty sets of campers in the field, some of them are families with children running around, one child is chasing a dog with a sandal in his mouth around a series of tents in a pattern that makes me dizzy just watching, another couple near by are lounging on foldaway chairs with a six pack of beer in a cooler by their feet. A group of teenagers are setting up their tent, one girl is hammering a peg into the ground as another tries to fix a collapsing piece of canvas on the other side, two boys stand a laughing at their attempt.

I feel George's hand brush mine as he swings the bag down from his shoulder and, stupidly, my heart flutters at the touch.

"You okay?"

"oh, yeah!" I blush. "Just looking for a good place to set up camp - what about there?" I point to a more secluded part of the field where there are less children and more adults. "It looks much more peaceful."

He nudges me. "Just what we need after that hard week of work!"

I laugh and lead him along with all the equipment.

"Phew! That's tiring work!" I lay back on the grass and wipe my forehead with the back of my hand as George flops down beside me.

"That's disgusting, use a towel for your sweat!" He chuckles, mirroring my actions.

I punch him lightly on the arm. Says you!"

We fall into silence as we look up at the sky, the sun is starting to set and little silvery dots are just becoming visible in the gentle, amber night.

"So, Ayelle, I've been thinking." Geroge starts.

 _It isn't like that!_ I shout at myself, trying to control my erratically beating heart.

"About?" I ask hopefully.

"Well, us, frankly."

"Oh! I mean… Oh? Well, frankly, so have I."

George smiles tenderly. "I've been quite lonely since Fred has been gone, you know. it's stressful to run a business by yourself. You've been wonderful to support me and I just…"

 _No way._

"Well, how would you like to… Ayelle, will you be my business partner?"

I'm both pleased and displeased at once. Of course I want to be George's business partner! But that is not what I was expecting him to ask. My heart still leaps at the opportunity - I've spent so long thinking about how little desire I have to leave Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and this is the perfect opportunity to stay, of course there is no way I could turn it down.

"You don't have to decide right now -"

"I'd love to be your business partner!" I exclaim gleefully, wrapping my arms around him ecstatically. "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes is going to be world famous one day, George! I promise you, I won't let you down!"

George laughs and his eyes light up. "I know! That's why I asked you."

I grin again. "I can't wait to get our business started, partner." I wink and hold my hand out to him.

He takes it and I shake his hand firmly, before we both dissolve into joyful laughter.

Later that night, me and George have chosen separate rooms in the peculiarly odd tent and I'm drifting off to sleep as I hear the loud _crack_ of thunder overhead. I freeze up as lightening cuts silently through the dark sky and flashes through the canvas of the tent, igniting my whole room with light.

I slip out from under my covers and pick up a blanket, trailing it gently behind me as I peek into George's room.

"George?" I whisper.

No reply.

"George?" Slightly louder.

"Hmm? Ayelle, is that you?"

"Uh, yeah." I murmur. "I don't like the storm… Can I sleep on your floor?"

"Mmph." He grunts and holds the sheets up. "The floor is too cold. It's a double mattress anyway."

"Okay…"

I tiptoe across the floor, thankful for the darkness as my cheeks flush and lay on the mattress, pulling the blanket up to my nose as another roll of thunder rumbles and I whimper.

Sleepily, George throws his arm over me and pulls me tighter. "It's just a a storm, it's okay." He mumbles against my hair. "Oh, what were you going to say earlier?"

I bite my lip nervously, what can I possibly say to that. "Well…" I shuffle around so I'm facing him.

"I think… maybe…" I swallow a lump in my throat.

If I do ever manage to say this to him… what on earth would he think? Will he feel the same… or will it ruin his business proposal. We already kissed, so… Well -

"Ayelle, maybe we could… well," He doesn't finish his sentence, but he presses his lips gently against mine and I feel the soft brush of his mouth as it grazes mine.

"George…"

"This won't ruin out business, will it?" I ask.

"No, I don't think so." I can feel him smile, and as he chuckles his warm breathe tickles my cheek. "Get some sleep now."

I nestle under my blanket and, although the storm is terrifying as it rages on in the distance, I've never been happier than I am right now, bundled in a blanket with George's head on mine and his arm thrown over my waist.

* * *

A/N

George and Ayelle! At last c: It took me too long to upload this - I know! But I'm so happy to finally have it done ~ and it's quite satisfying that they're finally together, it's been hard to hold back this scene for so long. I usually just let the characters date right at the start of my book so I held back quite well. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! I plan on one last, big finale chapter before the story ends, but I don't know how long it will take to get it right so, hold on! Thank you all for reading!

 _Brutal But Beautiful ~_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Roofs dusted with snow, flowers glazed with frost, wide fields with frozen grass… they're all my favourite signs that Christmas is coming. All of that, along with the smell of fresh baked mice pies, gingerbread and rich cake think with fruit and nuts. It swamps my senses as I walk down Diagon Alley under a dark sky lit lazily by little orbs of white light hanging by every shop. Hanukah candles decorate some windows while others are kitted out with presents wrapped in paper that seems to change colour and finished off with glistening bows. Joyful, bouncy music with bells and a piano filters out from the leaky cauldron and in the magical menagerie kittens run around the cage next to the window with red ribbons wrapped around their necks, so they're decked out like little gifts. Mistletoe, tinsel and holly is hung in wreaths on every shop door and draped along the sides of the shops. Apparitions of reindeer canter on in the sky happily, the sleigh bouncing along behind them full of presents.

This time of the year always makes me yearn to be back at Hogwarts where the Great Hall has a ceiling speckled with frosty stars and a tree that reaches the towering roof. Every night, the tables are lined with a huge feast that even 1,000 students can't polish off. Most of us would line our pockets with napkins and fill them to bursting with spiced cookies and turkey sandwiches. Us Ravenclaws would always use enchanting spells to make our pockets bigger and later, in the common room, we would have a second feast amongst shelves and shelves of books, with Rowena Ravenclaw looking over the shenanigans. The sixth and seventh years - even though they were underage - would drink so much firewhisky that they'd be too dense in the morning to answer the eagle's riddles.

It must be about 9 in the morning by now, but the sky is still shrouded with dark as I enter the bright, welcoming atmosphere of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Even though we're only just about to open, there's already a swarm outside that I have to push my way through to get in through the front door. George smiles at me as I unwrap my scarf from around my neck and hang it on the coat rack.

"Busy today!" I comment, slipping my arms out of my coat.

"Hm, you're telling me." He peeks outside at the long queue and grins. "Just like it used to be! You should see us in September," He reminisces. "packed out the door, kids always sneak in while their parents are off getting books and robes."

I stuff my gloves in my coat pocket and give George a small kiss. "Right! Better get ready then…!"

So today is finally the official, grand re-opening of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. We have new products, new furniture and a big red ribbon on the doors. The shop looks like a shiny new present; I'm confident that all our customers will love it - judging from the crowd outside. Of course, George goes out first, all charismatic charm and smiles, as the crowd greet him with glee - I'm not sure if it's because of him or because they're finally going to be allowed in - but it makes him smile, and I smile too when I step out after him.

George doesn't give a speech, but says a few words to put across his thanks and his best wishes for the next generation of pranksters. There are some groans from the parents and some squeals from the children, but then George and I cut the ribbon which flutters to the ground… and is trampled by the excitable crowd.

It's great to see the shop back on its feet again, Christmas music is blasting from somewhere and children run around like mad, darting up and down the stairs to show their parents things. There are loud choruses of joyous cries and surprised exclamations.

"Mum! Puking Pastilles - we shouldn't give them to the baby!"

"Anti-gravity hats! Imagine using that on McGonagall!"

"A fanged Frisbee!"

"Nose biting teacups?"

"How about reusable hangman?"

"Self writing quill for your homework, dear? Don't tell your father!"

One child cackles with joy as he spies Umbridge on a Unicycle and calls all of his friends over to look (personally, I think it's a miracle it hasn't been taken of the shelves. The minister cant like her very much either.)

I'm run off my feet as I serve child after child.

"Would you like it wrapped?"

"Eight Galleons, five sickles and a knut please"

"Here's your change, sir"

"Have a nice day!"

"Ah, tadpole soap, one of our best inventions!"

"Another bag, perhaps?"

By the time we close for lunch, I'm ready to sleep for a year. The shelves have been ravaged and everything's a mess. I have to admit, children are ruthless when they want something and I pity the parents who had to tail after their young kids, arms full of tricks, treats and toys for Christmas with horrified faces thinking of all the money they'll have to cough up - deciding when it's time to finally put their feet down.

George is a slave driver. He stands behind the counter to count up the money and shouts instructions at me.

"Ayelle! Stop being lazy. You can't just sit around all lunch."

I look up at him with a mouthful of bread, lettuce and cheese. "Mmph?" I mumble in protest as he swipes my sandwich out of my hand.

"After You've sorted out these shelves."

I sigh and get up to start cleaning up the massacre that is the floor. " I thought you were fun." I tease as I pick up a jack in the box, probably enchanted somehow.

"Wait."

I turn around to see George right behind me, a gleam in his eyes and a smile twitching at his lips.

"To say thank you, for helping me get back on my feet." He holds out a little box wrapped in orange and purple paper.

"George…?"

"Open it."

I roll my eyes and unfold the crisp paper to find a cardboard box filled with purple and orange sweets. "George.. What? Puking pastilles?"

"Well, you're going to be working very hard as my new business partner, maybe you'll need a day off…" His face breaks out in a grin, and so does mine. Soon both of us are laughing as the next crowd floods the shop and George realises no tidying has been done. His face flushes as he sees the state of the place, and he runs back behind the till gesturing at me to tidy up.

I watch him as I pick up crushed boxes and little plastic tabs, smiling charismatically at all his new fans, and can't help being so glad that I decided to walk into the shop this Autumn.

* * *

 _It's the last chapter! (yay!) and I know it took me forever, I'm sorry. I hope you all enjoyed it, and if you haven't already you can check out some of my other stories on my page c: thank you for all your nice reviews and your patience with me! And..._

 ** _Merry Christmas!_**

 ** _-Brutal But Beautiful_**


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